


The Haircut Incident

by ScriptaManent



Series: Oikawa week 2020 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aobajousai, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Haircuts, Humor, M/M, Oikawa Week 2020, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25260433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptaManent/pseuds/ScriptaManent
Summary: Tooru should really not have given the hairdresser carte blanche. Everything was too short, too messy, and he dreaded the look the others would give him when he would be back to school – and the laughs that would ensue. Little did he know, Iwaizumi’s reaction was far from what he had expected.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Oikawa week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985587
Comments: 21
Kudos: 145
Collections: Oikawa Week 2020





	The Haircut Incident

**Author's Note:**

> ✰ Oikawa Week 2020 – Day 1: Different hairstyle ✰
> 
> Thank you @dazzletwig for being an awesome beta! I can't wait to work with you again!

The sun was shining bright, blinding, the air nearly too hot for late October. Dead leaves were swirling around, blown away by the light breeze. Everywhere, town birds chirped happily, insensible to the season, living their every day like their first and last spring. Lucky them.

His hood casting shadows over his face, walking fast in the street, a young man had only one thing in mind: _to be back home._ He didn’t want anyone to spot him, even though that was exactly what was happening. Avoiding the inquisitive gazes passers-by were sending him wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and he nearly bumped into distracted kids several times on his way home.

Around the corner of a street, a crow cawed on his passage, perched high on a branch, looking down on him. Eventually lifting his head to take his surroundings in, Tooru sent a quick glare to the mocking creature. He stuck his tongue out to the crow, childish and upset, and quickened his pace. He had already spent too much time out.

As soon as he entered his street, Tooru clenched the sides of his hood tighter, sticking the fabric closer to his skull. He stopped behind a tree, acting like he was straight out of a spy movie. One careful glance informed him no move was to be seen in the Iwaizumis’ house, but it only made him tenser. He couldn’t tell whether they were home or not, and he had to walk past their house to reach his, only a hundred meters farther.

If Iwaizumi saw him… He preferred not to think about it. It was Monday afternoon, and he still had about one evening to fix the disaster his hair was. Hopefully, he still had time to tone down the teasing he knew he would have no choice but to face.

He considered never going back to school for a split second, but he knew it would never work. First of all, his mother would never let him drop out of school or switch to another one mid-year – and people would probably recognize him in all of Miyagi anyway. Then, Iwaizumi and the others would become nosy if he didn’t show up, and it was the last thing he wanted. Finally, he wouldn’t stand not being able to play volleyball for too long. No, he definitely didn’t have a flawless plan, and it bothered him a lot.

Tooru inhaled sharply and left the shadow of the tree. He tried to walk casually, yet awfully aware of the sound of his old sneakers hitting the pavement and of the relative silence all around him. Some people were chatting in their backyard, where they couldn’t see him. His shoulders stiffened but he went on, listening closely, half-expecting Iwaizumi to appear from nowhere and call him out for his strange behaviour.

He only allowed himself to breathe when his front door closed behind him. He was safe.

“Tooru?” a voice called, unannounced. It made him jump so violently that his hood dropped back.

Takeru’s head was poking out from the kitchen, and the kid frowned at his uncle, his mother’s unmistakable scowl upon his face.

“Did you get bubble gum stuck in your hair again?” the kid asked, his mouth pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

“I didn’t–” the teenager started yelling incoherently, his hand reflexively brushing the sides of his head, where the hair was short, way too short.

Takeru cut him off again. “You know, Mom taught me a trick with ice cubes to get it off without having to butcher your hairstyle,” the kid continued, dead serious.

“I told you, it wasn’t bubble gum!!!” Tooru shouted again, stiff. He flicked a look to the kitchen where he swore he had heard people chatting when he arrived. All was quiet now. “I did– I did this on purpose!” he added, and the kid raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘ _Huh, you did that to yourself? Here goes the bit of respect for you I had left._ ’

Tooru gritted his teeth, glaring at his nephew for a long moment. “Anyway, where’s your mom when we need her?!”

This time, muffled laughs came from the kitchen, but Tooru didn’t stop by, already rushing to the bathroom upstairs. First things first: he had to find a mirror. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad, right? Right? The doubled intensity of his sister’s laugh when he passed by the kitchen didn’t reassure him the least.

Hesitant to step inside the bathroom, Tooru froze in the doorframe, staring at the reflection he could see in the mirror. He hadn’t even bothered to switch the light on yet, and in front of him stood a monster straight out of his worst nightmares. It was a bad dream. Only a bad dream. _It had to be_.

He shut his eyelids tight, switched the light on, and opened them again.

The haircut was still there, and now that he could properly see it, it looked even worse, to his opinion. His magnificent bangs were, for the most part, gone. Now, he looked like these guys he could see in ads on TV, except on him it looked like someone had begun cutting his hair starting from the bottom and forgot to finish the job.

In his right mind, Tooru would _never_ have gone for an undercut. Or at least he would have gotten it starting higher, and he would have asked to get the longer strands of hair cut a bit shorter to harmonize it all. Presently, it looked like a wet mop placed on top of his head, a bit uneven in some places.

Way too short on the sides and the back of his head, his curls a floppy mess on top, Tooru was desperate. With his glasses on, the look was only worse.

“ _That’s what you get for flirting with the trainee_ ,” he could already hear Iwa-chan say. And of course, he would be right.

Tooru couldn’t have helped it, though. With her dyed blond hair and her big brown eyes, he hadn’t been able to resist. She had seemed so innocent, so shy, that he hadn’t had the heart to tell her what he really thought of the haircut. She had blushed every time he had caught her gaze in the mirror, and he had seen her scissors shake more than once. He probably had brightened her day, but next time he’d make sure to have his usual hairdresser doing his hair…

With a long, heart-breaking sigh, Tooru closed his eyes again, running his hand through the mess in a vain attempt at taming it a bit. He didn’t trust his sister to fix it. His mother would try her best but would make it worse for sure. And his dad had never been one to be trusted with sharp objects.

No, Tooru would have to suffer through high school with this haircut.

He could already imagine his friends’ reactions. It was going to be a very long week.

The loud whine he let out was almost inhuman. The only response it got was his sister’s laugh rising from downstairs.

* * *

Tooru walked down the corridors as if he owned the place, his head held high and his usual charming smile on display. He hadn’t stumbled upon any of his friends yet, and he was glad for the welcomed delay.

In hindsight, his new haircut didn’t look that terrible, but it was still odd enough to make him feel more self-conscious than usual. Not that he would show it to anyone, though.

Even though he was waving and winking as he always did, Tooru’s mind was busy listening to the whispers that rose in his trails. Girls talked about him, discussing his new style. Many couldn’t decide whether they liked it or not, but if one or two assured it suited him, the others followed short after. That was one of the good sides of being popular: most people either adored him or hated him, but he hardly left anyone indifferent, and that was all that mattered to him – or more precisely, to the one he acted like. At least, people talked about him.

His break didn’t last long, and much to Tooru’s dismay, Matsukawa was the first one to spot him in the crowd. Leaning against the wall, his friend was facing him. There was no chance for him to miss Tooru coming his way.

While the latter was seriously considering heading back home, Mattsun met his eyes, and for a split second, he looked like he was having a stroke. His eyes widened and he held his breath. The next moment, his laugh filled the place, loud and sonorous, bringing all the attention on them.

“What the hell happened to your hair?” he managed to ask between two laughs, his voice cracking every time Tooru’s glare fell on him.

The other put his hand on his hip, lifting his chin in a challenging manner, obviously not amused. “It’s called fashion, Mattsun, but I wasn’t expecting you to understand!”

Around them, the other students had backed away. They had learnt from experience that being around the volleyball club could be dangerous, either for their eardrums or their actual health. Sometimes, objects went flying around, and regular students usually didn’t have enough agility to dodge in time. Besides, most of the volleyball players were giants, and whenever Matsukawa or Hanamaki glanced down at someone, the person shrunk out of sight. And that was without mentioning Kyoutani in second year.

“No, seriously, what happened?” Mattsun asked again, wiping the tears out of the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips still threatening to crack into another laugh.

“I told you, it’s fashion!”

Hanamaki approached, a mocking smile curving his lips. He walked around Tooru, studying him as if shooting a documentary.

“It was a new hairdresser who happened to be very cute, wasn’t it?” he guessed, his predator’s smile widening when Tooru huffed offendedly.

“I willingly chose to give her my trust. That’s how people get better, you know,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

For an instant, Makki and Mattsun’s eyes drifted from Tooru to something behind him, and Tooru didn’t have to look to know who had just made his entrance.

One thought on his mind, Tooru turned around anxiously, searching his best friend’s eyes. He knew Iwaizumi would make fun of him, but somehow it was his reaction – not the girls’, not Makki and Mattsun’s – that made Tooru’s guts twist in anticipation. Iwaizumi was the one whose opinion really mattered, for he was always so honest with him.

What Tooru hadn’t expected, though, was the puzzled look on his best friend’s face. Behind Tooru, Hanamaki and Matsukawa fell silent. He could picture them exchanging a glance without having to look at them, but Tooru didn’t know what that meant, nor could he understand Iwaizumi’s reaction.

Tooru was going to say something when the bell rang, calling them to class. The corridors emptied almost immediately, and Iwaizumi lingered only a second longer before he left to join his own classroom.

Tooru’s gaze followed him until he couldn’t see him anymore, a concerned frown creasing his forehead.

For the whole day, it seemed a higher authority did everything in its power to ensure Tooru wouldn’t encounter Iwaizumi, to the point where the former started getting worried.

“Is it that bad?” he asked Matsukawa during afternoon break.

Tooru was slumped on his desk, tugging at a strand of hair that fell on his forehead. In front of him, Mattsun was balancing his chair on its two back legs and nearly fell backward at the question.

“Do you want me to be honest here?”

If anything, it only made Tooru’s mood darken.

“Go on. Iwa-chan can’t seem to stand being seen with me anymore, so it must be,” he grumbled, his words smothered in the sleeve of his shirt.

“It looks weird,” Matsukawa dropped, punctuating his statement with the dry sound of his chair hitting the floor back in its original position. “It looks like a failure. It’s between too long and too short. It–“

“I _get_ it, thanks,” the captain groaned, burying his face in his arms and covering the back of his head with his hands.

“I can’t wait to see the juniors’ faces when you show up for practise,” Matsukawa teased again.

His laugh was warm, as loud as thunder, when Tooru flipped him off.

* * *

Matsukawa was right, though. Practise definitely was… something. Tooru dressed up first and fast, contrarily to his habits, and he set up the gym before his teammates showed up. When everyone was gathered around him, he couldn’t help but notice the uncomfortable glances they kept sending him. And Iwa-chan wouldn’t even look at him, which was oddly infuriating.

The whole time, Mad Dog-chan glared at him like a distrustful animal. Even when Yahaba tried to get him to do some spikes, Kyoutani refused, his eyes never leaving Tooru, to the point that Yahaba himself gave up after a while. Not even Iwaizumi managed to get Kyoutani to work.

“It’s some kind of primal reaction, I think?” he hazarded, a bit confused at first when Kyoutani didn’t obey _him_. “He’s too stunned, he probably doesn’t even hear us…”

Throwing the ball didn’t work either.

After a quarter hour, the vice-captain was the one who got everyone in motion when it was obvious they were going to stagnate there. He clapped his hands and gave orders, as if his best friend wasn’t standing a few meters away from him, staring at him in disbelief.

“Iwa-chan, do you want my captain’s jersey as well?” he called with the most sarcasm he could put into his voice.

Iwaizumi eyed him briefly. “No thanks, it’d probably be too tight for me.”

Hanamaki snickered, dodging a ball a fraction of second before it hit him in the face.

To Tooru’s surprise, Kindaichi and Watari came to him when their captain was taking a break on a side bench, frustrated by the current dysfunctionality of his team.

“Oikawa-san,” the first year started, switching his weight from one foot to the other.

Tooru straightened up, a smile playing on his face at the sight. Kindaichi was intimidating to other first years, but when one got to know him, he was actually a big softie. Or maybe he was just like that with Tooru…

Kindaichi scrubbed his neck, and Tooru tilted his head to one side, inquisitive.

“We’ve heard people talk about your new hairstyle, today,” he started, twitching when a worried frown settled on Tooru’s face.

“And we just wanted to tell you that it suits you a lot!” Watari added precipitately, nudging his teammate in the ribs with a disapproving frown.

Tooru’s expression relaxed into a smile he knew was a bit exaggerated, but he truly liked the attention. He didn’t know whether they were acting on their own initiative or if someone – his eyes followed Iwaizumi as he jumped for a spike – had told them what to do, but somehow it was enough to make him feel a little less self-conscious.

“A-Actually,” Kindaichi prompted, stuttering when Tooru’s attention fell back on him. “I think it could have been trimmed a bit better. My cousin is a hairdresser!” he added hastily when Tooru couldn’t suppress a twist of his lips. “She could fix it… I-If you want! Not that there’s anything wrong with it!”

The captain let out a short laugh and got back to his feet, clapping his hand on his juniors’ shoulders at he passed near them.

“Thanks, Kindaichi, I’ll consider it,” he said, and this time it was the truth. “Now let’s get back on court before someone decides we’re the new targets.”

At that, Hanamaki raised his eyebrows in an innocent expression that didn’t suit him at all.

* * *

As per usual, Tooru and Iwaizumi stayed longer in the gym, busy practising their serves on each side of the court. It was easier to focus when there wasn’t anybody around to flick him a curious look, but the silence that reigned in the gym was different from what he was used to. Not even Tooru’s focus was enough to make him forget the strange atmosphere.

“Iwa-chan, you should go home if you’re getting sick,” he suggested when Iwaizumi stopped to get some water.

He froze mid-move, his bottle halfway to his lips, a frown upon his face. “What makes you think I am?”

Tooru shrugged dismissively, but he knew he couldn’t fool his best friend when it came to untold thoughts.

“I don’t know, you’ve been quite distracted all day,” he said, studying Iwaizumi as he put his bottle down without having taken a sip.

His followed Iwaizumi on the court as he fetched stray balls and gathered them into the caddie.

“That one’s on you, Trashykawa,” the ace muttered under his breath on his way to another ball. He stiffened when the words came out, probably louder than what he had expected.

He turned to Tooru, watching his move, as if hoping his friend wouldn’t spot him if he moved slowly enough.

“Is it really _that_ ugly?” Tooru asked softly, frowning at a stray bang he was trying to catch between his fingers.

Really, it couldn’t be _that_ awful? Not to the point where even Iwa-chan couldn’t stand looking at him?! He hoped Kindaichi’s cousin was as skilled with scissors as he had said she was…

“It could be better, but it’s not that bad,” Iwaizumi replied, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he watched the other.

The honesty made Tooru jump and he stared at his friend, surprise written all over his face.

“You think I look good?”

The words lingered in the air between them, and Tooru himself wasn’t quite sure of what he was really asking. Not even Iwaizumi’s reaction made sense.

The ace took a hesitant first step toward his best friend, stopping himself before he walked again, coming closer to Tooru. There was a stiffness in his approach that Tooru didn’t recall having ever witnessed. Tooru found himself freezing when Hajime stopped in front of him – closer than ever before – and reached out tentatively.

He tilted Tooru’s face to one side, gaze focused and shoulders tense, careful not to meet the other’s eyes. His touch was light on Tooru’s face, barely a caress. It was also warm and comforting, and familiar, because Tooru knew these hands even though they had never been this close to him.

Iwaizumi brushed his friend’s hair, tugging slightly on the longer bangs, cracking a smile when Tooru opened his mouth to protest. Iwaizumi’s face was so close to his, his fingers playing in his hair – for a split second, Tooru saw Iwaizumi tugging at his hair in his mind, the situation a whole other one, and his heart skipped a beat at the thought. He swallowed, trying his best not to be too obvious when Iwaizumi could see the tiniest bead of sweat on his skin.

He had the weird impression that Iwaizumi’s face was redder than usual, though. It could very well have been from the exercise, but just this once he found himself softening at a whole other possibility.

Iwaizumi’s hand followed the curve of his skull, behind his ear, lingering a bit too long on the shorter part of Tooru’s undercut.

All that Tooru could hear was the sound of his heart beating against his chest like a captive bird fighting for freedom. He forced himself to keep a steady breath, and the only thing that kept him from holding his breath at all was his training in controlling himself in most situations.

“Do you want me to fix it for you?” Iwaizumi asked after a moment, finally taking his hand back and leaning a bit backward, still close enough for his warmth to radiate to Tooru. “We’ve got a hair clipper at home and I’m the one who always uses it on my dad. He won’t let Mom do it,” he added with a mocking grin.

Tooru addressed him with a carefully checked suspicious look and Iwaizumi crossed his arms over his chest in response.

“Is it a trap, Iwa-chan?”

“Depends,” the other replied, suppressing a grin. “But if you keep looking at me like this, I might accidentally shave your whole head.”

Tooru’s hands rose into the air and he displayed his most dramatic face. “That’s it! I’m going to Kindaichi’s cousin! At least she should be able to actually fix it!”

A quick glance at Iwaizumi informed him he was laughing as well, and the spiker finally went back to picking the balls he had left unattended on the floor. Tooru watched him a bit longer, his mind racing, a flow of unanswered questions taking over him.

With a genuine grin he wasn’t aware of, he thought that maybe that haircut wasn’t as bad as it could have been, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! I still have 3 more fics coming for Oikawa week (+1 that may be posted later), so stick around if you want to read them!
> 
> ✰ Leave a comment to make your local fanfic writer smile and boost her morale! ✰


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